Reconnecting
by die-pink-die
Summary: Dakin is home for the holidays from Oxford and gets back in touch with the people in his life...summary inside is better.
1. Home Sweet Home?

Maybe a little Two shot regarding Dakin and Irwin…

Plot: Dakin is home for the holidays, and reconnects with the "important people in his life." A cliché plot, I know. This is complete and rampant speculation about Dakin's family and lifestyle. I don't know what is/isn't covered in the play; I have only seen the film version. I also made up Scripps name although on this site it is listed as a D. If anyone knows it, I will correct it. Thanks!

Dakin was bored. He loathed to admit it; after all only boring people are bored and Stuart Dakin was _certainly _not boring.

It was day three of the Christmas holidays, and so far the holidays had been dismal.

Day one's highlights had included taking a hot bath and his parents grilling him about school; everything from his marks to which clubs he had joined. On day two, he had been bored enough to open his books, leading his mother to gush over what a _productive _and obviously _so intelligent _boy she had raised.

Obviously she hadn't caught his mental memos that he couldn't stand her and his father any longer, and was seeking solitude in his schoolbooks. As he had always done.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. He was going insane in this house. He stared at the phone intently for a moment before dialing the number of someone he knew was home, probably also going mad.

"David? What's going on, mate?"

He grimaced as he realized he had called Scripps by his first name

"Well _Stuart_, I am just enjoying the end of term. Yourself?"

"What are your plans for this evening?" He said, deciding to get right to the point.

"Parents driving you mad?" Scripps said, surprisingly sympathetic. Before Dakin could respond an enthusiastic affirmative, Scripps continued.

"I wasn't doing anything, we can go to the pub, grab a bite. Seven work for you?"

"Absolutely mate."

"Right, see you then."

Dakin made to say something but the words would not come out and Scripps had hung up anyway. He glanced at his watch, groaning.

Two-thirty. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	2. Scripps

A/N: I actively dislike the end of this film, and suspect I would find the play's end revolting. Dakin/Irwin.

Ch 2: Scripps

Dakin didn't want to admit it; but he knew he had changed in his three months at Oxford. The ever present smirk had faded along with the sheen from excessive hair gel use.

Of course, other things had changed as well. Less obvious changes but just as important ones. Not being the smartest person in his classes had turned him into less of an arrogant smart-arse. He seemed more content somehow, as if he wasn't always trying to prove something to someone, or maybe it was to himself.

As he walked into the pub that evening, Scripps took a minute to survey him before calling him over to where he was sitting.

He had seen Dakin about six weeks ago, and yet somehow he was still surprised at how much he had changed. After all, he had known the smart mouthed, oversexed adolescent Stuart used to be for over six years. It was difficult to get that image out of his mind sometimes.

Dakin gave him a genuine smile; yet another shocking sign of growth. His real smile had freaked Scripps out a bit at first but he had gotten used to it for the most part.

He smiled back as he and Dakin exchanged a friendly handshake and pat on the back.

Dakin's keen eyes noticed his empty glass.

"You need a refill, mate?"

Dakin was back within moments with not only two beers, but also with a double order of bangers and mash.

Scripps expressed his gratitude and handed over some money. Dakin thanked him and pocketed the money.

He talked with Scripps for a while; everything from their schooling, new friends, interesting classes to their fond (and not so fond) memories of Cutler's until a pause fell between them. So far there was only one thing they had avoided talking about and Scripps simply couldn't put it off any longer.

Scripps looked at him seriously for a moment.

"Have you seen him?"

"Who?" Dakin played for time, looking at the table.

Scripps stared at him levelly until Dakin finally sighed out a negative response. He shook his head before continuing.

"I last saw him at Hector's service."

"You should, you know. See him. You know where he is."

"Yeah. I'll see you-I've got to-home you know."

He made to leave, gathering his coat quickly.

"Right. It was good to talk to you."

They shook hands before Dakin left. Scripps watched him go, wondering if he had pushed him too far.

_No, _he thought, _Dakin needs a fire lit under him. He's always done better under pressure, after all. _

Outside, Dakin leaned against the pub for a moment to catch his breath. He was embarrassed to admit how affected he still was by the mention-or lack thereof-of Irwin. It wasn't as if he had thought of him every day but he had found himself wondering how Irwin would have taught this or how he would feel about an essay or even a topic.

Of course, Scripps was right. He should see him. But that would mean facing his fears; his fears of being forgotten…or remembered. What if he was remembered, missed even? Of course, there was the physical and the psychological injuries Irwin had sustained. He didn't know how to, didn't want to deal with all that.

It was too much to deal with right now. His head spinning, he quickly went home and went to bed where his thoughts kept him awake much longer than he was willing to admit.

_Damn Scripps. _


End file.
